


Proxy

by daalny



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daalny/pseuds/daalny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events lead Jeremy to become James' medical proxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> This work is pure fiction and my first attempt at it.

Looking back on it he should have seen it. The appetite loss with the refusal of chips the stiff neck after the lap time/test of the new Ford but somehow he had missed it. Richard had told him time and time again that this was not his fault but in his mind it was. The evidence was before him, a body connected to various cables and leads. Was it twenty-four hours ago? Might have been a lifetime ago. Sitting in the hard plastic chair his thoughts were interrupted by a cup in his field of vision.

“Here I’m allowed five minutes, brought you some tea.” Richard Hammond spoke quietly.

“Thanks, Hammond” Clarkson said genuinely which made Richard’s heart break a tiny bit more.

Richard drew breath and spoke rapidly “I would stay but you know the nurses have info on me here-“

Clarkson waved him to stop, “Go home, I will phone.”

Richard smiled weakly before leaving the small hospital room. Clarkson leaned his large frame back against the plastic of his chair. He sipped the tea, it was horrible but it gave him something else to think about. His eyes wandered about the room for the millionth time that night. The flash of yellow caught his again and he sighed heavily. The yellow was the identification band around James’ wrist, telling all who he was. Trying to make sense of what happened he allowed himself to remember.

 _Six Months Ago_

 _Jeremy was furiously typing away at his computer. Furious was the only speed he knew. The speed was reduced to zero by a knock on his doorjamb._

 _“Have a minute?”_

 _“I do now” Jeremy pointed to papers in James’ hand. “That the specs Pagani sent over?”_

 _James shook his head in the negative, “No, it’s my medical proxy papers.”_

 _Jeremy pulled off his reading specs and tried not to stare to obtrusively._

 _James began rambling, “While Mum was a nurse she’s tied up with Dad and I don’t want to burden my siblings they have enough to worry about what with children. Sarah and I broke up as you know and you pointed out on many occasions that I’m a biker and should have a last will and testament…will you do it?”  
_

 _Jeremy was taken aback. “Are you sure you want me?”_

 _James blushed and just looked thoughtfully at him, “You maybe ham-fisted but you’re also no bullshit Jeremy. I need that for this. I’ve filled out all the papers for my medical wishes I just need you execute them if I become incapacitated.” James said and absently rubbed the back of his head. Jeremy swallowed remembering him bleeding and confused on the desert floor of Syria.  
He waved James over and grabbed the stack of papers from him and found the signature line and scrawled his name._

Being James’ medical proxy allowed him to stay well past the allowed visiting hours the hospital allowed. The doctors had told him that James would probably not wake well past morning but there was no sense in leaving. The children were with his ex-wife this week and he was loath to go back to his flat. Also he knew that James would have no recollection of how he got to hospital in the first place. Better that he stay put.

Again he became aware of the hard plastic chair he considered it a penance. The doctors were certain that James had meningitis. However, the culture results would only be available after 24 hours, which should be now. Currently he was on cefalsporin to combat the infection. When the culture yielded its results he would be switched to a more specific antibiotic if needed. Along with that drip, fluids were being pumped along with medicine to bring down the fever and the keep James comfortable. Steroids were also being introduced to try to protect his brain. Something he recognized as a pulse oximeter was on his right forefinger and an oxygen mask was over his face.

He must have fallen asleep sometime in the night. He found the tea Hammond had left for him stone cold. When the medical personnel came in to assess James, Jeremy moved to the back of the room. He caught a few snippets of words, “afebrile” and “responding”.

When they were done a young doctor approached him. “Mr. Clarkson, Mr. May is responding to treatment. His fever has broken and we should expect him to wake up sometime today. There has been no indication of increased pressure in his brain so we can start tapering down the steroids… that is good news. Has the woman been located yet?”

Jeremy had been dreading this question; during the beginning of the week an intern had coughed directly in James’ face. The three had actually joked about it since James had subject to other bodily fluids such as vomit. No one had thought about it until yesterday when Andy had shouted bringing a swarm of people to his voice. Jeremy’s altitude had allowed him to peer over Andy bringing into his line of sight a prostrate James. Richard had yelled at someone to dial an ambulance while the other two went to assess their friend.

 _“Christ he’s burning up!” Clarkson muttered as his hand swiped over James’ forehead as they moved him into the recovery position. Soon green jump-suited ambulance personnel moved in moving James to a gurney and wheeling him away. Hours later when meningitis had been suspected the whole of the Top Gear production team were brought in for evaluation and prophylactic treatment. Clarkson remembered the size of the tablets he had been given to swallow and for a moment thought about not taking them but remembering James laying on the floor of the office had him trying to dry swallow._   


Realizing that the doctor had asked a question Jeremy answered, “The intern is new and the production office is trying to track her down. The address she listed is vacant. Other workers said she mentioned a new flat we’re trying to find it…Can I ask what’s most likely to happen if she doesn’t get treatment?”

The physician blew out a breath, “This woman could be a benign carrier, happens in about 10% of the population”

“Like Typhoid Mary?” Clarkson stated.

“Exactly! However, if she’s not a benign carrier and was ill and hasn’t sought treatment.” His shoulders shrugged and Jeremy knew that outcome would be bad.

When the hour approached something decent he rang Mrs. May and informed her of her sons progress. The soft-spoken woman voiced her thanks and Jeremy promised that he would phone her the instant her son awoke. The next phone call was to Richard who would ring others to update them.

The hard plastic chair had become Jeremy’s constant in this small cubicle of a hospital room. He tried ineffectually to finish the crossword puzzle, he’d been at it for over 12 hours and still no new answers were popping into his mind at the clues. So instead he began a random game of circling words that began with the letter M.

Forty-five minutes into the challenge a moan startled him. The paper was quickly tossed and Clarkson was on his feet. He watched waiting to see if James would emit another sound. Was he indeed waking? Jeremy hit the call bell, a nurse came in and he told her what he had seen.

The nurse addressed him, “His consciousness will be rising since we’re dialing back the steroids. He’ll make some sounds but probably won’t be lucid for a few hours. When he starts making purposeful movements hit the bell again.”

With new orders Jeremy took his position in the chair once more. He tried circling more words but every pause in breath from James had him staring. When James’ right hand moved to slap off the mask Jeremy grabbed it and used his other hand to press the Call Bell.

“James, just settle down.” Barked Jeremy

James’ blue eyes locked onto his revealing panic so Jeremy lowered his voice, “I’ll explain everything just keep still.”

When James’ grip relaxed Clarkson grinned, “It’s all right mate. You’re in hospital—

The curtain shielding the door was swept aside revealing the physician Jeremy had spoken to earlier.

“Mr. May, I’m Dr. Crahn.” The physician announced before moving closer to the bed. A glance at the monitors had the doctor nodding before he removed the mask from his patients face. “Mr. May do you know where you are?”

“Hospital?” He answered meekly.

“Who is that?” Crahn asked pointing towards Clarkson.

“Jezza” James rasped.

“We’ll get you some ice chips for that throat in the meantime let me ask you something, how many two pence in a pound?

James looked confused but answered with confidence, “Fifty”

“Good” Crahn praised as he removed a penlight from his pocket and shined it in James’ eyes. “Spell world backwards.”

“D-l-r-o-w” James answered.

“Very good” The doctor praised again.

“Did I get another concussion?” James asked eyes darting towards Jeremy.

“No” Crahn answered softly.

“th -then why this assessment?”

Jeremy could see the panic rising in his friend. “James you’re here because of meningitis.”

“Meningitis?” James rasped.

“What do you remember?” Crahn demanded softly.

“The new ford. You drove it and said ‘I had to try it’…didn’t feel well…here”

Crahn spoke again, “Do you remember being coughed on?”

“Yes” James rasped again and tried to clear his throat, as if on queue a nurse appeared with the cup of ice chips. The young woman in navy blue offered him a chunk of frozen water. James chewed the offering his harsh swallow was heard by all before a sigh escaped. “In the hallway”

Jeremy spoke up from behind Crahn, “She got you sick, and you spiked a fever and passed out in the production office. Andy, Richard and I we called an ambulance and brought you here.”

James expelled a breath, “How long?”

As Crahn removed the pulse oximeter he answered James, “You’ve been here about a day and half, we’ve been treating you for bacterial meningitis. The antibiotics we administered knocked down the fever down. We also gave you steroids as a precaution to protect your brain from any potential swelling. We’ll order an MRI but I have a feeling that there has been no swelling.”

“That’s why the tests?” James murmured.

Crahn nodded and adjusted the bed so James was sitting up, “Yes, anymore questions?”

As James rose he winced, “Why does my back hurt?”

“Your back will hurt from the lumbar puncture and I’ll warn you now you’re going to have headaches—bad headaches. We’ll make sure you’re comfortable.” With that the doctor swept from the room.  


“This is confusing.” James muttered as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Jeremy sat down in the plastic chair and tried to fill in the blanks as best he could for James. When he was done he punched numbers on his mobile and held it out, “here talk to your Mum”

“Flipping ‘eck” James muttered before taking the phone. He had yet to give thought to his family.

As James spoke to his family Jeremy stepped outside, the relief he felt wash over him was like slipping into a warm bath. His shoulders finally relaxed and the tenseness in his stomach abated. When James was done talking to his mother he was taken for his MRI. With James in the imaging department he rang Richard.

 _“So he’s all right?”_

“Seems to be, the doctors are scanning his brain now”

 _“Make sure one is there?”_

The two laughed at this but Richard quickly spoke, _“No I understand they don’t want any swelling.”_

When James was delivered back from Imaging he sent Jeremy home. On his drive back Clarkson used his mobile in traffic to call Andy he didn’t care if he was fined.  
Over the next day the drip was removed and another scan confirmed the first. Also a cognitive assessment was given. His sister had raided his house and brought him his own clothes. Jeremy and Richard were visiting and trying to play cards. The doctor had recommended it as another test of cognitive abilities. It was during this visit that the first of the side effects of James’ bout with meningitis manifested.  


Richard had adjusted the bed so James could sit up. Jeremy had just dealt a new hand when James shook his head.

“Something wrong?”

“Just keep seeing something out the corner of my eye” James muttered.

Jeremy had put the television on for background noise, he stood up and turned if off. “Better?”

“Yeah” James answered and the three got back to the game. Cards eventually dissolved and they started discussing nonsensical topics when James closed his eyes and groaned.

“You all right mate?” Richard asked.

All James could do was groan again and emit a whimper as he cradled his head. His legs began thrashing underneath the blanket and it was obvious he was in great pain. Jeremy punched the call button. Since it was shift change there was a new nurse and since the NHS had invoked a more caring policy she asked, “Everything all right in here?”

“Help him!” Richard snapped. The nurse exited and a few minutes later Crahn appeared. James had turned on his side his left hand white knuckling the side rail as his right was clutched round Jeremy’s.  


Crahn moved towards the bed and spoke in soft yet commanding voice, “I know it’s hard but you have to stay still” The doctors words had the desired affect and James stilled. A syringe appeared and Crahn pulled down James’ pajama bottoms to reveal his hip the needle was then plunged into the exposed flesh. After a handful of minutes the death grip on Clarkson’s hand lessened and James’ face began to relax.

“Can you describe the pain?” The physician asked.

James still had his eyes closed, “Felt like someone was yanking on my optic nerve trying to rip my eyeballs out from the inside and at the same time my skull felt like it was being punched by a yobbo.”  
Crahn was still by the bedside, “One more question before you go down for sleep, did anything precede this, did you see or smell anything?”

“Flashing light in the corner of my eye, thought it was the telly.” James muttered before passing out.

Crahn motioned for Jeremy to move to the hallway Richard came as well. “Would you care for coffee?” He said to Richard.  
The younger man threw up his hands, “What?”

Clarkson understood, “Look I know I’m the proxy but I’m going to tell him what you tell me anyway.”

Crahn exhaled through his nose, “What Mr. May is experiencing is a migraine. That light he referred to was most likely an aura. This is to be expected, the severity will decrease over time. That injection will put him out until morning, and sleep is best for terminating a migraine. It will be imperative in the future that he pay attention to his auras.”

Jeremy nodded and the doctor left.

“Did you have anything like that?” Jeremy asked Richard softly.

“PTSD, a memory kept playing in my head over and over and got stuck. Gave me anxiety which lead to a headache but nothing like that,” He said augmenting his sentence by pointing to James’ room.  


“If he’s out, I think I’m going to head back.” Richard said.

“Yeah go on, say hello for us all” Jeremy said quickly.

Jeremy went back into the room to make sure James was indeed asleep. Richard had left and didn’t witness Jeremy pull the blanket up over James. If he would have some of the tension in the younger man’s chest would have eased. So far only Richard knew the truth as to why Sarah and James had broken up. One weekend mending motorbikes James had confided that he was gay. Sarah had known and the two of them had developed a symbiotic relationship of sorts. May was able to provide connections outside of the dance world and she was able to provide him with a heterosexual cover. It wasn’t until Sarah had met someone she could settle down with that the two had parted company. Richard had asked him why he hadn’t come out sooner.

 _“It’s always the joke isn’t it? Gay May? Putting the rainbow flag on the BritCar. I’ve lived with a cat…used tampons. The speculation is annoying but it also keeps the fire off of us. Can you imagine the tabloids?”_

 _Richard could, he remembered the crude comments on a fan website of TopGear._

 _James’ face was hidden by his hair, “You won’t tell anyone will you?”_

 _“Well Jeremy knows…doesn’t he?” Richard shot back._

 _James blushed causing Richard to plough on, “You haven’t told him, wait you fancy him!”_

 _At this the Meek May exploded, “Yes Damn it, why do you think I’ve been so careful. I won’t cost anyone their livelihoods.”_

 _“Careful” Richard echoed then he truly thought about it. James never touched him or Jeremy, a playful handshake and perhaps a pat on the back was the only contact. When there was the car vs. whatever it was always himself and James that were paired together. Only the Arctic was different and they damn near killed each other. The past year the tabloids had been crawling over Jeremy’s separation and subsequent divorce if the tabloids caught wind of this it could be devastating. Richard could see that James was sacrificing himself to protect them as best he could._

 _“I’m sorry” Richard said sincerely and James knew he meant it._

What Richard didn’t know was that while Jeremy was driving back to his king-sized bed he was trying to figure out when he started having feelings for his best mate.  
The next day saw James released, his sister picked him up and stayed with him through the weekend. The intern who had infected James had not been a benign carrier as was once thought. She too had been infected with meningitis however, unlike James her treatment had not been so swift and her brain had been affected. Her cognitive abilities had been compromised; she had been moved to a rehabilitation facility. Sunday night had James contemplating going back to work, instead of the BBC offices it would be at Dunsfold Park—the hangar. James was still easily fatigued but wanted desperately to leave his house and work. The phone rang and his little sister Sarah answered. “Hello…ha ha! No, no he’s awake hold on. Jeremy for you.”

“Ta”

 _“Sister driving you mad yet?”_

“No but speaking of driving, I want to go to work tomorrow but I’m not keen on driving.”

 _“I’ll pick you up.”_

In the morning James showered and dressed for work. Since they would most likely spend most of the day in the hangar he put on jeans, his beloved purple rugby shirt and grabbed a jacket to combat the cold. Instead of honking from the pavement, the Mexican doorbell Clarkson called it, Jeremy came to the door. “Ready?”

“Yeah let me grab my keys.”

“Do you have your medication?” Jeremy demanded.

James tapped his jacket and Jeremy heard the telltale rattle of pills. The GT loomed and James smiled. It was during the trip that Jeremy regarded his friend and once again tried to pinpoint when it was that things had changed. They had a strong friendship and along with Richard Hammond they had been through so much. When he had seen James on the floor of the office not moving it had pulled something inside of him. This feeling had intensified when he had been ringside to James’ first migraine. He knew that if something had have happened to James that he wouldn’t be the same. He reflected on his thoughts of Francie. He did love her, she was the Mother of his children yet there had always been something lacking. Their divorce had been amicable unheard of in today’s marriages. When he pulled into the carpark he finally realized that the feeling he had for James was love.

There was a smattering of applause as James walked through the hangar. He ducked his head and Clarkson waved at the others to get them to stop. The two made their way to side area not shown on camera where Andy and Richard were waiting. They sat down and began going over the day’s schedule.

The floor was being taped off in certain areas and lights were being adjusted. All three had been wired with earpieces and microphones. It was quiet save for the occasional voice of a crewmember. An hour later the three sat on the center dais in their respective “chairs” going through a tentative script when James leaned his head into his hands. The other two were instantly up on their feet. Richard to fetch water and Jeremy groping inside the leather jacket draped over the side rail of the chair to retrieve James’ medication. The two instinctively knew that James’ was having an aura. James dutifully swallowed the tablet Jeremy provided for him. His eyes were clenched shut in a hopeless attempt to ward off the oncoming pain. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to open them the two lead him away from the dais.  


After the doctor had told Jeremy and Richard that James would most likely have headaches in the future they had notified Andy. The producer was familiar with medical issues. They had provided Hammond with a trailer during his recovery from the crash. However, it had since been converted so with a few phone calls the production team had stashed a bed in a darkened storeroom for James to kip on.  
As Richard and Jeremy moved towards it they hoped they had enough time from the onset of the aura for the medication to get into James’ system before the skull crushing force of his migraine hit.  


Jeremy got him settled and covered him with a light blanket he stood to leave when James’ hand clamped round his wrist. “Stay” he whispered.

Along with the bed in the room there was also a comfortable old chair, the one James used to sit in when the studio had old living room furniture instead of the modified car seats. Jeremy went to sit in the chair yet James’ hand didn’t release him, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I shan’t.” Declared Jeremy, he reached over James and removed the battery pack from the waistband of James jeans before he unclipped his own and sat in the chair.

In the car ride over James had told him his fear of the migraines. He hadn’t had one since the hospital and he was scared to death of when and if they would hit. He worried that the medication might not work but of all he didn’t want to be alone during an attack. The truth was no one was sure what the medication would do to James. The information sheet given rivaled the MOT report of the Lanchester taxi Hammond bought.

“I can hear you thinking, just stop and try to relax.” Clarkson said.

James scoffed, “I’m trying…I’m frightened.”

Clarkson had never been good at providing comfort but he decided to give it a shot—how hard could it be? He ran his fingers through James’ hair gently massaging the scalp. The man who hated physical contact sighed in contentment so Jeremy continued until James fell asleep.

When he woke Jeremy was still there. “How do you feel?” Clarkson asked softly.

“Odd, the headache is there but it feels distant…it’s there but I don’t seem to mind.” James sat up, “Rehearsal still going?”

“No” While James had been sleeping Jeremy had been listening to the chaos on his earpiece.

James hung his head in shame.

Jeremy moved from the chair to sit next to him on the bed, “Don’t get upset. Took them forever to sort out the car position one of the those floodlights broke and we’ll get to it tomorrow…not your fault.”  


Jeremy didn’t know whether it was the stress of the past few days, the low lighting in the storeroom or the fact he had figured out _exactly_ what it was he felt for the man beside him but the storeroom was weaving some sort of magic and he leaned in and kissed James. The kiss was short, just lips meeting, it was chaste but held the promise of something more.

“Get to it tomorrow” Jeremy whispered again. James was in a bit of state; he was disoriented from his migraine and more disoriented from Jeremy’s kiss. He watched in disbelief as the object of his affection stood and opened the door letting light spill in. Nevertheless he stood and they walked through the hangar to the carpark. The car ride back to London was quiet. James desperately wanted to say _something_ but found he couldn’t. Jeremy wasn’t speaking either so James hung onto the last thing said to him _Get to it tomorrow._

Jeremy Clarkson was a man not afraid of many things, yes he joked that he had a fear of manual labor but it was more a general dislike. However, at this moment he was afraid. He had no clue whether he had just alienated his friend by acting on his instincts. He hazarded a glance at James and saw the man was working his jaw a dead giveaway that his mind was churning.

“Penny for them” He muttered quietly.

James was still somewhat compromised from everything so he blurted out his first thought, “I’m gay.”

“Good” was Jeremy’s gruff answer.

It took a moment to sink in and James found himself laughing. He laughed in joy and sheer relief that there would be no scorn. Jeremy laughed with him and when James’ cackles gave way to the dying goose as it had been dubbed and Jeremy’s eyes watered. Eventually the car slowed and James was amazed that Jeremy parked it and got out.

James’ voice was sharp, “You’re going to leave that on the street?”

“How many GT’s are there in Britain. No one in their right mind will nick it, since everyone knows whom it belongs to.”

James’ jaw tightened again, “Aren’t you afraid of that?”

“Come on” Clarkson murmured in his subversive tone and motioned for him to open the door.

James scoffed and used his key to open the door. Unlike cinematic flicks they did not fall into each other’s arms. Instead Jeremy merely waded into the kitchen and began pulling down the makings for tea. It was oddly domestic and James found it seductive. He wanted to tell Jeremy everything yet somehow now wasn’t the time. The two-sipped tea, when the mugs were drained Jeremy spoke, “you need to rest.”  


James gave him a mock salute and moved towards his bedroom. Jeremy washed up the mugs while James changed his clothes and went about his bedtime ritual. He was placing his mobile on the bedside table when Jeremy came into his bedroom. “Get into bed.”

“Imbecile Clarkson, I have to lock up when you leave.”

“I’m stealing your keys. Rest.”

James climbed into bed and pulled the duvet over his chest. He could hear Jeremy move through the house and heard his keys jingling and the thud of the deadbolt as it engaged. Yawning loudly he let sleep take him.

An explosion woke him. His mind whirled, was it riots? Making his way to the front room the cacophony was explained. Jeremy was on his couch watching a film.  
“May, get dressed we can grab breakfast on the go.”

The man did as ordered, got scrubbed and dressed. Soon the pair was underway instead of the Ford today they traveled in a more subdued Mercedes. The hesitance had left James and he wanted to talk.  


Jeremy was able to glean his thoughts, “May, why didn’t you tell me?”

James blinked hard, “I thought it was obvious.”

“Apparently not.” Jeremy retorted as he checked his mirror and depressed the indicator stalk signaling left.

James snickered, “I didn’t tell anyone I’m gay, well except Hammond and before you get your knickers in a twist let me just say it’s a long story. Anyway you were married and it’s impolite to have feelings for any married person so I just buried them. When you separated I still wasn’t going to say anything because I thought you were overwhelmingly straight.”

Jeremy couldn’t argue with that logic but he still wanted to explain, “Look I don’t know what I am but I do know I want to be with you and not in some sort of Shag-and-leg-it type way. God, you in hospital made that clear.”

The lighting had been fixed marks had been set down. The three went through the script making small changes replacing words to make the language flow smoother. The already shot material was piped through the monitors to check for sync. During this time the three escaped outside for a tea/smoke break. The track was busy; the reasonably priced car was being put through its paces before it had the “star” in it. Richard became aware of an industrial vehicle moving towards the hangar. “What is that?”

“Don’t know” James answered.

Jeremy screwed the cigarette between his lips and cupped his hands over his eyes to reduce the glare so he could get a better look. “I think the Morris Marina club is going to be cross with us again.”

Richard giggled, “Another piano?”

A voice drifted beside them it was the other May—Iain. “Editors picked up mistake. The crane shadow is visible in the piano drop, re-shoot is in order.”

Hammond laughed, “We do the taping Friday and we’re still shooting footage?”

“Can’t it be computer edited?” Clarkson demanded.

The head Camera operator shrugged, “Actually cheaper to just re-shoot it. We have another Marina, same color, we’ll turn it so the number plate isn’t visible and drop the piano.”

“Is that a grand?” Clarkson asked trying to make out the piano shape.

James stood in his personal space and pointed, Jeremy’s head touching his upper arm as he looked down the makeshift sight of James’ arm “No, see how it’s taller on one side… it’s an upright”  


Richard watched with rapt attention, James was letting Jeremy near him. Not only that the two seemed more comfortable with one another. When Richard realized he had been caught staring by James he flexed his hand his way of communicating, “what happened?”

James just regarded his friend and Hammond noticed that James seemed to be lighter. Before the piano was dropped James gave it a thorough inspection.

“What are you doing?” Clarkson asked.

“Making sure all the keys work.” James said matter of factly before continuing, “Do you remember the fans writing in after the cameraman was seen pushing Hammonds Toyota down the hill during our trip to Bolivia? If we’re reshooting because of a crane shadow it seems prudent to make sure the piano works.”

Everyone knew that it was just an excuse for James to play the piano but he had brought up some valid points. His fingers ran up the length of the piano, while it was grossly out of tune everyone was mesmerized by the sight of James’ fingers flying over the keys.

“I declare this piano fit to be dropped.”

The re-shoot of the destruction of the Morris Marina was strangely anti-climatic. The tape was delivered to the nervous editors for them to splice into the already shot footage. The taping would be on Friday with the “star” doing the lap in the morning before the audience filled the hangar. There was nothing more to be done today so everyone was sent home.  


It was a gorgeous Tuesday; the sun was unobscured by clouds making the drive back into London a delight. There would be no question that Jeremy would follow James into the house. Without a word they ended up in the bedroom the while the main windows were still shuttered by blinds a row of high narrow windows allowed sunlight to stream in. Jeremy’s mind thought back to all the times he had had sex in the past and the common denominator was that it was in the comforting dark. He was apprehensive about baring his body to another in what was tantamount to broad daylight.  


James kissed him in an echo of what occurred in the storeroom. It seemed to calm Jeremy the two traded lazy kisses near the bed before falling on it. They laughed at each other. Not knowing what to do Jeremy fell back on the one thing he knew James liked; he buried his hand in his hair and massaged his scalp. James head fell back exposing the tendons of his throat. Jeremy saw the ligaments move and he attacked them with his teeth. He could feel the vibrations James made through his lips and found it erotic. He was unaware that James was removing his shirt until he felt the cooler air of the room hit his skin.  


This change in temperature brought to the forefront of where they were and what they were about to do. It made Jeremy’s head swim with the enormity of it all. James could see the emotions swirling in the man beside him. He ran his hands up Jeremy’s chest and took note of what he liked and what he didn’t. Being pianist gave James’ hands a unique dexterity, which he used to manipulate Jeremy’s chest, toying with his nipples.

Jeremy hadn’t experienced anything like this; generally women would just run their hands through his chest hair and leave it at that. He wanted to laugh that it had taken James to realize that he had more than one erogenous zone. This epiphany quickly brought on another--he had no clue what to do next.  


What finesse he had was limited to hammers but since he had been liberated from his shirt he felt he should reciprocate. He closed his fist around the hem of James’ T-shirt and pulled upward. The red cotton of James’ Indian motorcycle soon flew into a corner.

Their chests met and so did their lips. The feel of skin against skin was something Jeremy missed. The fact that it was now with man and not a woman didn’t seem to matter. The dominant sound in the room was the smacking of lips and the occasional moan as a hand skimmed down a flank or caressed a shoulder. It was all remarkably tender until Jeremy’s hips snapped forward. The carnal side of both of the men surfaced. Hands battled to remove belts, jeans and other hindrances. James hooked a leg over Jeremy and brought them both together. Pleasure sparked and Jeremy bit James’ shoulder as his erection brushed against James’. The pain cleared James’ head and circled his hips making Jeremy cry out. It had been so long for both of them that they couldn’t go slow. They moved against one another in fervent frottage, it was hot and primal. Jeremy’s arms wrapped around the man beside him, he held him close and shouted as his hips stuttered. James felt the hot rush of Jeremy’s release and let himself surrender.  


The two of them gently disentangled themselves from each other and fell into the post-coital nap. Jeremy woke first and took stock of his surroundings. He was in bed with a man—with James. Not only that they had had sex—good sex. He moved closer to the sleeping man throwing his arm over James drawing him closer to him. When James’ back made contact with Jeremy’s chest he moaned and soon awoke. Jeremy held him as he slowly told him of his fear of the media of how he didn’t want a scandal.

The day of the taping was here, the audience was gathering outside of the hangar. The hair and make-up crew was touching up the three presenters. Richard noted that James didn’t need make-up he was practically glowing, as was Jeremy. Richard knew the two had been intimate but no one else did Jeremy was just as subversive and crass and he had ever been. James had been right the media went berserk over the tiniest thing. Reporters had taken pictures of Jeremy and James sitting outside of a pub. Jeremy in classic Clarkson fashion had given the camera the V sign to photograph, James had just laughed. It had made for a great photo and the reporters asked questions. Clarkson and May merely deflected them.

 _“Richard Hammond was having his teeth whitened and Kristin Scott Thomas didn’t call me back so I’m drinking with him.” Jeremy said forlornly._   


The taping began and segment was shown of James attempting to power-slide a supercar. Laughs rang out of how many times the car spun off the track but eventually the piece ended with James triumphantly manipulating the supercar in an arc around the track. When the action returned to the hangar Clarkson crowed, “good one May!”  


He extended his hand for James to shake in congratulations; only Richard saw that Clarkson’s thumb caressed the top of James’ hand as he shook it.


End file.
